


soldier keep on

by Liu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadowhunter Chronicles Fusion, M/M, Shadowhunter Barry, Shadowhunter Caitlin, Shadowhunter Cisco, Warlock Len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/pseuds/Liu
Summary: When Barry is dragged into a world full of monsters on his quest to investigate his mother's death, he does not expect to find love.((Shadowhunters AU))





	soldier keep on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_ship_it_101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_ship_it_101/gifts).



> Written for ColdFlash Winter Gift Exchange (in about two hours, so please excuse any mistakes or typos and I'll be forever grateful if you point them out to me :'D) Also I hope that the person who asked for a Shadowhunter AU will be satisfied :))
> 
> Title from a Fleurie song from the Shadowhunters soundtrack that I listened to for inspiration :D

His heartbeat is a staccato of thunderclaps in his ears. The runes etched into his skin make sure that he’s faster than he used to be, but Barry’s not sure he’s fast _enough_ for whatever it is that’s chasing him. He can vaguely remember Oliver yelling something about a type of a demon, but Barry’s pretty new to all this and one demon is just as terrifying to him as another. That’s why he took off when a dark tentacle smacked his blade out of his hand – not like he could do much with it, anyway, since fighting monsters with medieval weapons hasn’t been a part of Barry’s curriculum.

He takes a sharp turn and a few dark tentacles wrap around the lamppost where his leg would’ve been. He feels panic bubbling up in his stomach and wonders how much longer will he keep going… and what exactly will happen to him if he-

His foot slips and he crashes to the ground, hands scraping against the asphalt and joints flaring in pain from the impact. Hastily, Barry flips around, but watching the dark mass of tentacles and teeth approach isn’t exactly helping him. One tentacle slips up his ankle, burning the skin above his sock, and Barry chokes off a sob. This is not how it was supposed to end – not how he thought it would end when a bunch of strangers in leather showed up and offered him a chance to finally figure out what had happened to his mom all those years ago.

The tentacle winds around his knee and Barry lets out a strangled whine when the demon brushes against the hole in his jeans. The touch burns his bare skin and he shuts his eyes tight, hoping for it to be quick.

_I’m sorry_ , he thinks as the memory of his mother flashes through his mind.

And suddenly the world brightens around him and a horrible shriek shakes through the alley – Barry’s eyes snap open just to find a bolt of unnaturally blue ice sticking through the monster’s body. The tentacle gripping his leg bursts when frost winds around it and Barry whips around, eyes going wide.

There’s a man not ten feet from him, eyes glowing blue and hands outstretched as blasts of ice fly towards the demon, skewering it to the nearest wall. The monster writhes and screams again, the sound curdling Barry’s blood even as he hastily scrambles away, out of the tentacles’ reach.

Another burst of ice and the demon disintegrates into a shower of embers. Barry tries to catch his breath, lungs hurting with the need for air, but panic makes it impossible and he wheezes in pain. That’s when a surprisingly warm hand touches his cheek and his eyes snap to meet glowing blue that slowly melts into a more natural shade.

“Are you alright?” the stranger asks, voice smooth and gravelly, and Barry would probably really enjoy the sound of it in any other circumstances, but right now, breathing is definitely a priority. The stranger seems to understand, and his thumb brushes a warm path over Barry’s cheekbone.  
  
“Look at me, kid,” he says, oozing confidence and calm all of a sudden, and it’s like a switch has been flipped in Barry’s brain. He can feel a sense of comfort and peace surround him like a warm cloud, but it still takes a while for it to filter through. “Just breathe in – yeah, that’s it, now, hold… breathe out.”

Barry knows he’s going to be embarrassed about panicking like this, but for now, he concentrates on the instructions and that soothing voice. The touch helps, and somewhere in the process he grabs the guy’s wrist and just holds on for dear life, until the panic ebbs away and he can feel the weariness that always settles in afterwards.

“I’m good,” he croaks, throat parched, and pushes himself into a proper sitting position. The stranger withdraws his hand, careful fingers trailing down Barry’s cheek and throat for a moment, and Barry immediately regrets the loss of that sensation.

“You sure?”

Barry nods: he’s been better, but considering the circumstances, he’s mostly glad to be alive. And breathing. The man makes an off-hand, strange gesture with his other hand and the cloud of hazy calm disappears, leaving Barry acutely aware of the fact that he’s sitting in a puddle of dirty rainwater, jeans soaked through and his leg still hurting from the demon’s touch.

He turns his eyes to the stranger’s face again – he’s ridiculously handsome, but Barry’s getting used to this magical, horrifying world being inhabited by supermodels. Barry wants to say ‘thanks’ because that’s the least he can do when someone saves his hide, but footfall at the end of the alley draws his attention.

A moment later, Cisco and Caitlin appear and immediately zone in on Barry’s savior.

“Freeze!”

The stranger smirks and stands up, and his voice turns sharp and mocking. “Really? That the best you can come up with, Cisco?”

Barry opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong – the man saved his life, so why is Cisco acting like he’s the enemy? But in the next second his friends draw their weapons, the angelblades shining ominously in the dark alley, and the stranger flashes him an amused look.

“Until next time, Scarlet.”

Barry can feel his cheeks heat up at the nickname: he knows now that bringing a bright red hoodie to a demon fight probably wasn’t his smartest idea, but it’s not like he’s had time to go shopping, alright?

The stranger waves his hand just as Cisco charges, and vanishes in a cloud of purple smoke. Cisco curses under his breath and only then does he turn to Barry, exasperation and irritation warring in his eyes.

“Lesson number one, don’t take off like that again, alright? Not like we can save your ass when we don’t know where you are. Also, wow, you’re fast, man.”

“Um,” Barry mutters and takes Caitlin’s offered hand, letting her pull him up to his feet. “Thanks?”

“Lesson number two,” Caitlin sighs and helps him brush the dirt off his clothes – not that it helps much, his jeans are still wet and cold and gross. “Don’t fraternize with crazy warlocks. Or any warlocks, really. They’re bad news.”

“And Cold is the worst,” Cisco adds, and Barry perks up.

“Cold?”

“Oh, no, no no no,” Cisco frowns and points his angelblade at Barry, then realizes what he’s doing and puts the blade away, only to stab a finger towards Barry’s face. “I know that look. That’s the ‘I’m interested’ look and in no way should it ever be associated with Leonard Snart. He’s a warlock and a criminal, and his idea of fun is pitching Mundane mobsters against each other. If you ever see him again, run the other way, are we clear?”

“But he-“

“Are we _clear_?!”

Barry hangs his head in defeat and sighs.

…

“I thought you wanted me to run the other way,” Barry mumbles under his breath to Cisco, who gives him a withering look in return.

“I still think this is a horrible idea,” Caitlin chimes in, and Cisco throws his arms up in the air.

“Not like we have a lot of options here. We need a warlock, and we might have an in with this one, if we play our cards right.”

“Cards being me,” Barry huffs and tugs at his shirt. It’s way too tight and doesn’t even cover his stomach properly – and it’s cool that training and runes have given him abs, but Barry still feels a little self-conscious. Caitlin slaps his hand away with a disapproving frown.

“Stop that. You look just fine.”

“Well I sure as hell hope ‘just fine’ is gonna be enough to land us a warlock,” Cisco mutters and reaches for the ridiculously ornate door knocker.

Before he can use it, the heavy metal door slides open and Leonard Snart leans against the doorframe. Barry can’t help but admire the smooth move.

“My, my, what do we have here – has the prude club let out early tonight?”

Cisco bristles immediately, but Caitlin’s hand on his shoulder keeps him from blurting out whatever cutting remark has just crossed his mind. After all, they _do_ need Snart’s help, and insulting him in his own home is not the way to go.

Barry himself has trouble concentrating on the task at hand. Snart looked like a regular guy (with some magic) the first time they met, but right now, there’s nothing ordinary about him. The leather jacket accentuates his shoulders and the perfect lines of his naked chest, adorned with several expensive-and-probably-magical necklaces. The black kilt and dark boots would probably look ridiculous on another man, but on Snart, they make Barry’s mouth water inappropriately. And the eyeliner accentuating his unnaturally blue eyes isn’t helping, either.

All in all, Barry can’t bring himself to stop gaping like a fish. Snart smirks, as if he fully understands the effect he’s having on Barry, and shrugs.

“I guess you can come in. If you promise to play nice.”

Caitlin and Cisco mumble something that Barry doesn’t quite catch, and then they’re let inside what looked like an industrial warehouse from the outside and has been transformed into a magical party-land on the inside. It seems every bit of the place is oozing glitter, the drinks changing colors in wide swirls as Barry watches the trays float past him. The music isn’t too loud but Barry can feel it thump through his body in an enchanting rhythm, and there’s something herbal and sweet in the air that makes him dizzy. He’s never been the partying type, but even he knows that this place is nothing like the clubs downtown.

They follow Snart through the crowd of dancing people – although when Barry looks too closely, he can see most of them sporting horns or oddly-shaped ears, multicolored irises and iridescent skin. He’s almost glad when they reach a more secluded spot and Snart drapes himself across a velvet lounge chair, one leg dangling over the armrest and a glass of something bright blue materializing in his hand.

“Talk,” he orders and waves his other hand – suddenly they’re all pushed into chairs that weren’t there a second ago. “What brings Central City’s young and annoying to my humble abode?”

“Thawne,” Caitlin says without preamble and mischief drains out of Snart’s eyes. He sits up properly and leans forward, elbows on his knees, and Barry realizes at that moment what it feels like to have that sort of intense attention focused solely on them. It should be scary, coming from someone like Snart, but instead, it sends little thrilled tingles down Barry’s spine.

He lets Cisco and Caitlin do most of the talking, both of them better acquainted with the history of the Legion and the man who wanted to subjugate the Downworld and turn it into his personal megalomaniac playground. Snart, judging by the icy looks, isn’t a fan. Barry takes his time observing the man, and he finds himself drawn to the warlock, against his better judgment.

He’s surprisingly business-like when they discuss strategy and what he’s able – and willing – to do for them. They come to an agreement pretty quickly and Barry feels a hint of regret when they all stand up, Snart shaking hands with first Caitlin, then Cisco. The warlock turns to him, and a hint of a smirk plays on his lips again.

“Now,” he says, sweeping his eyes over the room and then focusing back on Barry again, “how about you join in the fun while you can?”

“We shouldn’t-“ Cisco starts, but Snart waves his hand and suddenly there’s a tall drink in his hand, decorated with at least four pieces of fruit Barry’s never seen before.

“The world’s not going to end tonight, Shadowhunter,” Snart grins, and then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, drapes an arm around Barry’s shoulders and whisks him away towards the music.

…

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into step beside Leonard Snart. He’s quick and efficient in a fight, ice-cold determination and lethal force combining to make him a formidable opponent.

When they’re not out there getting drenched in demon-blood or fighting off Thawne’s Legion, Snart tells him all those things about the Downworld that Shadowhunters haven’t yet taught him – and a few things that they probably don’t know either. Snart becomes Leonard, and then Len, grimacing at the use of his full name, and Barry slowly pieces together the history behind it, a despotic father somewhere in the fifteenth century and a son who did not fit in anywhere, with those eyes and with that devil-may-care attitude. Barry likes his tales better than the dry, clinical books at the Institute – Len’s words bring to life a whole new world, where vampires and werewolves and the fae love and hate and fight about silly, everyday things, and Barry finds that he likes the sound of that world, so very similar to the one he has grown up in, filled with friends and family and the kind of drama that did not warrant anyone’s death.

There’s a dark side to it, Barry knows, but he was eleven years old when he learned that ‘mundane’ did not equal ‘safe’, so he’s not quick to judge based on one vampire’s bloodlust or a werewolf who’s lost control. Len seems to like that about him – every time Barry stands up for a Downworlder, against the other Shadowhunters who look at him like he’s a traitor, Len’s icy-blue eyes will go a little soft, crinkled around the corners, and Barry’s heart skips a beat.

He doesn’t realize the full extent of his feelings until he’s kneeling on the muddy bank of Lake Lyn, staring at the imposing, glowing figure of an angel and feeling like his heart has been torn out of his chest in the span of those ten seconds between Thawne ripping Len’s heart right out of his body and Barry burying his angelblade in Thawne’s chest.

“Choose your wish wisely, Shadowhunter,” the Angel Raziel says, his voice, unsuited for mortal ears, shaking the ground.

And Barry, on the verge of another panic attack and no one to help him through, breathes out the only miracle he needs more than air.

The world dims as the angel disappears, and Barry scrambles through the mud to get to Len’s body – no, to _Len_ , his Len, and what if it doesn’t work, he can’t even imagine surviving this without-\

But then, icy blue eyes blink open, confusion giving way to warmth as Len takes in the sight of Barry and raises his shaky hand to brush away the dirt and tears streaking Barry’s cheek.

“Look at me,” he whispers, and Barry draws in a shaky breath, just to release it in a series of choked sobs as he launches himself at Len and kisses him, wetly, messily, and it tastes like mud and tears and death, but Barry cannot imagine a greater miracle. Len’s long fingers tangle in his shirt and he holds Barry close until they’re both breathless.

“I’m good,” Barry laughs and sobs when they part, and Len smiles at him like maybe, everything’s going to be alright. In that moment, Barry believes it with all his heart: no matter what, they’ll get through it all together, and nothing else matters.

“Yeah, Scarlet… you are.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://pheuthe.tumblr.com).


End file.
